


Do You Wanna Hang? No.

by Charlieregretsthis



Category: Be More Chill - Iconis/Tracz
Genre: Angst, Do You Wanna Hang?, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Implied/Referenced Sexual Assault, Non-Consensual, Panic Attacks, Past Rape/Non-con, Rape/Non-con Elements
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-08
Updated: 2017-07-24
Packaged: 2018-11-10 17:35:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,013
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11131584
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Charlieregretsthis/pseuds/Charlieregretsthis
Summary: Jeremy is not expecting Chloe Valentine to hit on him at a party. Especially not on Jake Dillinger's parent's bed while his current girlfriend is outside the door and he cannot stand up and Chloe is drunk and Jake is going to kill him and-It's just not a good situation.





	1. I Don't Wanna Hang

**Author's Note:**

> TRIGGER WARNING!!!  
> Jeremy is in a non-con situation, this might be triggering to some people. Nothing super major happens, but it's still super emotionally scarring for him, please don't read this if you think you might be impacted by it negatively! Take care of yourself, <3 !!!

Jeremy would be shaking if the SQUIP allowed it. Chloe has taken his hand, and he can tell that his hands are  _ sweaty _ , goddamn it, and thinking about his sweaty hands only makes them sweatier.

_ Calm down. Be cool. No one likes a guy who’s apprehensive about sex.  _ The SQUIP’s voice echoes in his brain. Sex?!? He did  _ not _ sign up for sex. Especially not sex with Brooke, a girl he’s been dating for a grand total of two weeks now, and who’s nice, but not someone Jeremy wants to have  _ sex  _ with. 

_ You signed up for this, Jeremy. _ The SQUIP drones.  _ You signed up for my help in becoming cool. Therefore, you signed up for sex. _

Desperately trying to distract himself from the voice in his head, Jeremy opens his mouth and says the first thing he can think of. 

“You really know your way around.”

“Yeah, I’ve had sex in pretty much every room in this house,” Chloe comments, and Jeremy’s mouth falls open. Chloe notices, and rolls her eyes pointedly. “Because I dated Jake. God, what kind of slut do you think I am?”

Jeremy decides there’s probably not a right way to answer that question, so he just maintains eye contact with the hardwood floor while Chloe takes a swing out of her oversized plastic baby bottle. 

By now, the two are sitting on the bedding of a typical parent’s room, although it doesn’t look like it’s been used very recently. Jeremy notices the suspicious lack of Brooke around here.

“Where’s Brooke?” He asks, and Chloe looks at him with doughy( and what he suddenly realizes are extraordinarily intoxicated) eyes. God, this isn’t a threesome thing, right? Because if there’s one thing Jeremy is less prepared for than sex with Brooke, it’s a threesome with Chloe and Brooke. 

_ Jeremy, a threesome would be perfect to introduce your name to the world of school hookup gossip. Especially with the two most popular girls in school. _

Jeremy ignores the voice as Chloe slurs out an answer to Jeremy’s question. 

“Oh my God, you are too freaking adorable.  _ Brooke’s not coming _ .”

“She’s not?” Jeremy sputters, thinking he may actually be off the hook. “Than why…”

It hits him. And it turns out there is something he is even less prepared for than a threesome with Chloe and Brooke. It’s cheating on his two-week girlfriend with her best friend in Jake’s parent’s room on Halloween night. 

Chloe is talking, but Jeremy can’t focus on it. It’s a whirlwind of flirting, of terribly obvious drunk flirting, and Jeremy is painfully aware that her hand is on his  _ knee _ , and he doesn’t want any of this, he just wants to be back at Michael’s place playing video games ( _ Michael is a link to Jeremy 1.0 _ ) or getting stoned ( _ You only get high with the right people, Jeremy _ ) or anywhere but here.

“I have to go!” Jeremy almost screams, interrupting Chloe in the middle of a sentence. He starts to leap up, to run downstairs and to his dad’s car and all the way back into his room where he’s going to hide for hours and hours-

But nothing happens. His legs are glued to the bed, in fact, his whole body is stiff as a board, like he’s paralyzed. He can’t move. 

_ You’re welcome _ .

Holy shit. Jeremy’s mind overflows with panic, terror, as his hand is moving  _ without him moving it _ towards Chloe’s upper thigh, a place he does  _ not want it to go _ , and then Brooke is talking again. 

“I don’t know why she’s so crazy about you. You’re not that cute. No offense.” 

“None taken. I should get back-” Jeremy twists his body around, but it twists back just as fast.

“You know she’s not actually all that innocent. That wounded puppy routine? It’s just how she gets all the guys. Acts all helpless so they want to protect her. Not that I care.” 

Jeremy leaps at the change of conversation, away from thigh-touching and sex with Chloe. 

“You’re jealous of Brooke!” Maybe he can get her angry, get her pissed off at him so she never wants to speak to him again, let alone touch him or have sex with him or-

“Um. Obviously I’m not,” Chloe spits out, furrowing her brows guiltily. 

“That’s  _ insane _ ! Why would you be jealous of anyone?” He can feel the SQUIP moving his mouth suddenly. “You’re the hottest girl in school!” He barely registers that the words are out of his mouth before Chloe is on top of him, her mouth on his.

He can’t breathe, and his chest is tightening and the SQUIP is moving his hands all over her body, and he doesn’t want this at all. Suddenly he can taste the alcohol on her breath, and realizes with a start how drunk she is, and how  _ wrong  _ this is because Jeremy doesn’t want this at all, and she’s so drunk she  _ can’t  _ want this. 

“Make it stop!” He spits out, but he can’t tell if it was out loud or only in his head.

_ I don’t understand the request _ .

Then Chloe is talking again, her breath heating his face. He can feel his heartbeat in his ears, and Chloe shoves the baby bottle in his hands. 

“It’s not actually milk,” she giggles, and he can feel how utterly wasted she is. 

“Oh, I’m not really a big-” before he can get out the word, the bottle is in his mouth, and the alcohol burns dripping down his throat. He almost chokes but he SQUIP forces it down. Is this what beer tastes like? Jeremy never wants any, never again. 

He’s kissing Chloe again, and her hands are moving all over him, and he wants so badly to slap them off, his throat is tightening and he’s getting nauseous, and-

“Jeremy? Are you in there?” A voice, from outside the door. Brooke’s.  _ Brooke _ . Jeremy tries to scream for help, because Brooke will help him, won’t she? But he can’t speak, and Chloe is shushing him. “Jenna Roland said she saw you go upstairs. Jeremy?” 

For a second, Chloe sits, hand positioned over her mouth, until they hear footsteps going away from the door. Jeremy sits bolt upright, exhaling. Chloe is up now, blissfully  _ off of him _ , but he can still feel where her hands were on his legs, on his chest, where his lipstick is smeared on his face. 

“If Jenna Roland saw us-” he starts.

“Jenna Roland should mind her own business,” spits Chloe, suddenly livid.

“Brooke’s going to find out,” Jeremy realizes. “Don’t you care?”

“You’re less cute when you’re talking,” Chloe shoots, but turns back to him, walking towards him. 

“Help me out of here!” Jeremy screams at the SQUIP, hoping to God that it’ll be merciful for once. 

_ Konichiwa! _ The SQUIP’s voice echoes unnaturally, its voice deformed.

“What?” 

_ I’m sorry, Jeremy. Alcohol temporarily scrambles my- _

More Japanese, rapid-fire Japanese, and as Chloe nears, Jeremy wishes he took Japanese instead of Spanish. 

“ _ THAN WHY DID YOU MAKE ME DRINK IT?!?”  _ Jeremy screams inside his head. Chloe sits down next to him, but he pushes her off, shaking wildly. 

The SQUIP sputters out some half-phrases peppered with Japanese, and Chloe jumps up. 

“Whatever, I’ve had enough-” she starts, and Jeremy could cry, how relieved he is that Chloe isn’t going to have sex with him and he isn’t going to have sex with Chloe. 

“JEREMY HEERE?” The voice is loud, from outside the door, and it can only belong to one person. Jake. 

“Ooh, the fun begins,” squeals Chloe, half in anger at Jeremy and half in delight at herself.

“Is that… Jake?” Jeremy asks, stupidly. 

“JEREMY, I KNOW YOU’RE NOT HAVING SEX ON MY PARENT’S BED, BECAUSE IF YOU WERE, I’D HAVE TO RIP YOUR BALLS OFF!” Jeremy curls his legs up to his chest as the pounding on the door gets louder. 

“GREAT, THEN YOU CAN BOTH BE BALL-LESS!” Chloe screams, obviously fighting back a stream of tears, and Jeremy’s heart skips a beat. 

“...CHLOE?!?” Jake yells. The doorknob rattles, and then slams with the force of a human being hurled against it. 

“HEAR THAT? I’M HAVING HOT SEX WITH JEREMY ALL OVER YOUR PARENT’S LINENS!” Chloe screams, and Jeremy jumps up. 

“NO, WE’RE NOT, I SWEAR, WE’RE NOT!” He screams, because people know how drunk Chloe is and how  _ not _ -drunk Jeremy is, and Jesus Fucking Christ, he’s going to be arrested. 

There is a pause. The silence hangs thick in the air. 

“...Maybe be believed me and went away.” Jeremy wishes aloud. As soon as the words leave his mouth, a fist explodes through the window, raining broken glass all over the room. The SQUIP’s voice explodes in Jeremy’s ears, a repeated Japanese phrase. Chloe jerks him back onto the bed, ripping open his button-down shirt. Jeremy tries to flip himself over, panicked and covering his chest with shaking hands. 

“YOU’RE FUCKING DEAD, JEREMY!” Jake screams, and Jeremy notices with horror that he’s holding a baseball bat. 

Jeremy is going to be murdered in Jake’s parent’s room while Jeremy is being forced into having non-consensual sex with his girlfriend’s best friend. 

“GO AWAY!” Chloe yells, “WE’RE BUSY  _ SCREWING _ !” On that word, Jeremy twists his wrist out of of Chloe’s grip. He falls on the floor, rebuttoning his shirt incorrectly and not caring, as he flings open the door. 

Brooke is standing there. Brooke, in already smearing mascara, and Jeremy stares at her with wide, overwhelmed eyes. 

Without words, he pushes past her. He pushes past everyone else, too as he runs full-speed down the hallway, throwing open a random door and collapsing on the tiled floor of a bathroom.


	2. Four Years Later: Part 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This probably goes into more detail than the previous chapter, for someone who is sensitive or gets triggered from discussion of sexual assault, rape and extreme panic attacks should probably stay clear of this chapter. Stay safe and take care of yourselves, ya beautiful humans!!!

It’s been a year since Jeremy has seen Chloe Valentine. Jeremy is now staring at her, her face streaked with tears, clutching a small purse as she stares at him. 

“C-chloe?” Jeremy sputters, not taking his eyes off of her mascara trailing down her cheeks and around her eyes. 

“Jeremy, thank God. I hoped I got the dorm right, I’d only visited once before, and-”

“Are you okay?” The question is idiotic, and Chloe bursts into tears to illustrate. 

“N-no,” Chloe sobs. “C-can I co-come in?” Jeremy hesitates, images of the Night He Does Not Discuss flashing through his head, but then he takes in Chloe’s appearance. Her hair is hanging in greasy clumps over her shoulders, something Jeremy has never seen before. He’s actually never seen Chloe with a hair out of place. Even during the Night He Does Not Discuss, he can clearly ( _ so damn clearly _ ) remember her perfect winged eyeliner. Something is wrong here, very wrong. 

“Yeah… yeah. Michael’s- he’s not here, he’s, uh- at work, and-” Jeremy ushers her over to the small couch he and Michael picked up on the side of the road, but Chloe cuts her off in the middle of a sentence.

“Wait, M-michael lives h-here? I thought this was y-your place?” 

“...Yeah, well it was only my place, like, a  _ year _ ago. When you came for the housewarming, er,  _ dorm _ warming party, it  _ was  _ just me, but now… okay, I’m rambling, what’s wrong with you?” Jeremy is hasty to change the subject, partly because he doesn’t want to talk about Michael, but mostly because he’s just realized that Chloe has  _ bruises  _ on her  _ neck _ and this might be worse than Jeremy thought. “Your-”

“My neck,” Chloe whispers, and how did Jeremy not realize how hoarse her voice was? “I know. It’s, like, fucked up.” 

“Who did this to you?” Jeremy asks, his thoughts inadvertently flashing back to That Night and he needs to stay in the fucking  _ present _ not back four years ago. Chloe laughs bitterly, but it quickly devolves into coughing. 

“I don’t fucking know. How am I supposed to fucking  _ know _ ?” Jeremy gives her a confused look, and she shakes her head. “I was drunk, Jer. I was going on vacation to NYC with friends, and I was at a party, I don’t know… I just woke up in some guy’s flat, totally hungover. And I was covered in bruises… and I just got the fuck out of there.” Jeremy stares at her, at her feelings pouring out, at her eyes clouding over with tears. And this is  _ her  _ emergency,  _ her _ crisis, so why is feeling like he’s not breathing right, why is his heart beginning to pick up speed. 

God, because that could have been Chloe  _ four motherfucking years ago _ if the SQUIP hadn’t shorted out and it would have been  _ him _ who hurt her. 

And as soon as he thinks that, he’s running to the bathroom, throwing up his breakfast into a porcelain toilet bowl, and Chloe is screaming his name, Chloe is  _ screaming _ , and he can feel her thigh in his hands like it’s actually happening even though it was four years ago, and he feels like he’s going to faint. 

“Jeremy? What the fuck, are you alright?” Jeremy is leaning over the toilet, stomach reeling, and he calls weakly to her. 

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I can’t- call Michael, call Michael  _ right now _ , okay?” Jeremy can’t think, he can’t  _ breathe _ , this is a panic attack, right? Is he having a panic attack right now?

God, Chloe got  _ raped  _ by somebody, he shouldn’t be asking her for favors. 

“Jeremy, I don’t have my phone, and I don’t, I don’t-”

“My phone is on the table, the passcode is 12345-”

“You’re joking.”

“Just do it, call him, please, I can’t do this-”

“Michael isn’t on here, Jer,”

Jeremy grimaces. “He’s under ‘love eyes emoji heart heart heart,’ ‘kay?”

“What the fuck?”

“ _ Just call him _ !” Jeremy screams, and that shuts Chloe up for good. Jeremy feels pangs of guilt, but stronger pangs of nausea, as The Night replays itself over and over, as he imagines himself doing those things to her (he didn’t do that, did he? He is  _ imagining  _ it, right?) and he feels like he’s going to throw up again and he does. He vaguely hears Chloe yelling to him, and he feels like he’s going to faint, and he can’t hear her but he can hear Michael freaking the fuck out over the phone, and Chloe is freaking the fuck out, and Michael is swearing and yelling something to a professor and Jeremy can barely feel time pass he’s just hyperventilating and Chloe is crying hander and Jeremy tries desperately to snap himself out of it. Chloe came to  _ him  _ for help, he’s not helping, he’s making more problems, so he tries to pull himself away from the toilet to help her, but he just starts throwing up again, and he can’t stop shaking and this is so  _ fucking definitely  _ a panic attack. 

The next thing he knows, someone is yelling his name and there’s a hand on his shoulder, and there’s a voice,  _ Michael’s  _ voice. And Jeremy can finally open his eyes again, and exhale, as Michael speaks to him. 

“Tell me five things you hear, Jeremy.” 

Jeremy listens carefully, trying to concentrate. “My own voice. Your voice, that goddamn terrible air conditioner, Chloe in the background, is that Rich?”

“Four things you can see,” Michael says, not answering Jeremy’s question. 

“The toilet bowl, my own puke in the toilet bowl, the carpet, the floor.”

“Three things you feel.”

“Your hand on my back, the tiles digging into my knees, the lip of the toilet.” Jeremy’s breath is evening out, and his brain is quieting. 

“Two things you taste.”

“Vomit. And… my own spit, I guess?”

“One thing you smell.”

“Puke, duh.”

“Okay, are you okay now?” Michael whispers, and Jeremy nods tentatively. “Okay, you can go into the kitchen, and-”

“Not with Chloe, I can’t see Chloe right now!” Jeremy pleads, and his voice breaks. 

“Okay, okay… okay. No Chloe. I guess I’ll just, uh…” Michael reaches over and flushes the toilet. He then closes the toilet lid, and Jeremy sits himself on it, placing his head in his hands. Michael sits on the edge of the shower. 

“Do you want to talk about it?” Michael asks, and he sounds nervous, like he doesn’t want to hear what Jeremy has to say, but knows that he needs to. 

“You need to call the police,” Jeremy says first, because the most important thing right now is Chloe, it’s only Chloe. “Chloe got… she got raped, you have to call-”

“Rich is on it. My question is why you just had the worst panic attack I’ve ever seen.” There’s a silence in the room. “Do you want to talk about it, or do you want to take a break?” Jeremy smiles sadly at his boyfriend, and shakes his head. 

“I can’t deal with it right now, okay? Please, I just want to… I need to sleep.” Michael nods. 

“Okay. I’ll get Rich and Chloe to leave, you stay here.” Jeremy nods, and Michael opens the door to the bathroom. He walks away, but leaves the door open, leaving room for Jeremy to breathe. Jeremy doesn’t look out towards the kitchen, but it’s so close he can hear the hushed conversation. 

“ _ Rich, you need to take Chloe to the hospital, okay? _ ” Michael says.

“ _ Okay… okay… oh God, Michael, I’m sorry, is Jeremy okay? Is he okay? _ ” Chloe’s scared voice strikes Jeremy right in the heart. 

“ _ He’s going to be okay, but right now, we need to get you to the hospital, because we need to make sure that you’re physically alright. _ ” 

“ _ Alright, Chloe, I know how to get to Johnson National Hospital from here, let’s go. _ ” Rich’s voice is quiet, but it’s definitely him. 

“ _ Can I talk to Michael for a quick second? _ ” Chloe asks quietly, just loud enough that Jeremy can hear her. 

“ _ Sure, I’ll be out front, _ ” Rich responds. There’s a moment of silence. 

“ _ Michael, what’s with you and Jeremy? _ ”

“ _ Jesus, Chloe, this is not a moment for  _ gossip _! _ ” Michael whispers harshly. 

“ _ I just want you two to know that I’m really happy for you. I’m expecting the full story after all of this is over, okay? _ ” Jeremy can hear the smile in Chloe’s voice, and is calms him, knowing that she’s okay enough to find humor in something. 

Chloe and Rich leave, and Michael calls to Jeremy. “You can come out now, they’re gone.” Jeremy stumbles out of the bathroom, grabbing onto the wall for support. His head still feels too heavy for his body, and Michael runs over to link his arm under Jeremy’s. He puts his hand on Jeremy’s shoulder, but Jeremy jerks away, suddenly four years of building up strength crumbling underneath him. 

Michael is standing there, staring at Jeremy, with a look of crushing sadness in his eyes. “Okay,” he breathes, nodding sadly. “Okay, Jer-bear, let’s get you to sleep.”

He helps Jeremy into bed, being careful to avoid touching him. Instead, he just pulls the covers up around him, and turns the light off. “Rest for as long as you need,” Michael assures, and Jeremy nods. 

A few tears leak out of the corners of his eyes, as Jeremy thinks about the past four years. What happened, what he hasn’t said. 

He remembers high school, desperately avoiding Chloe until he had heard that she sobbed to Brooke, asking what she did wrong. Asking if she was really that bad, that Jeremy couldn’t even talk to her. 

He remembers when Chloe was invited over, along with everyone else, for the dormwarming party Michael and he threw in freshman year of college. He remembers how just making eye contact with her made him shudder, made him want to cry. 

He wonders if he should have told someone. He wonders how he could have done it. 

He wonders how many things he has done wrong. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter will have a part II, as it kind of splits into two parts, and possibly a short epilogue? I don't know, but I will definitely keep this fic going, it's been a great writing experience for me. Thanks for all the comments and kudos, I love all of you guys!!!


	3. Four Years Later: Part 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter isn't as explicit as the last two, but it does contain mentions of alcoholism, as well as some mention of sexual assault, rape, etc. Stay safe ya beautiful humans! Take care of yourselves.

Michael is doing the dishes in the kitchen. Michael does housework when he’s stressed (the house is never cleaner than it is during finals week) and the background noise is what wakes Jeremy up. It’s one in the afternoon, and Jeremy has been sleeping for around four hours. 

When he stumbles into the kitchen, Michael turns off the water and turns to him, raising his eyebrows in a question. 

“I’m better now,” Jeremy says, and it’s true. His head feels less clouded, and he can breathe normally again. 

“Do you want to talk about what happened?” Michael asks, taking a seat at their small table.

Jeremy knows what he should do… he knows he should tell Michael and tell Chloe and tell everyone because nothing will happen unless he tells people. But _ how  _ does he? It’s embarrassing and terrifying and-

Then Jeremy looks at Michael,  _ Michael _ , who is sitting there at that shitty table they got at a tag sale together, giving him a reassuring smile, and Jeremy exhales. The two started - not  _ dating _ , but doing whatever they’re doing - around six months ago, and it’s been beautiful. Jeremy’s thing with Christine fell through pretty quickly, with the dawning realization that he was gay. The two are still great friends, though, who see each other at least once a month. Christine makes it a point to carve time for Michael and Jeremy visits out of her busy rehearsal schedule (she’s getting quite big in theater already, she’s currently starring in an off-Broadway musical Jeremy’s seeing next week). 

But Michael,  _ Michael _ , he’s just so fucking perfect. Jeremy can trust him. He knows this. He can tell Michael anything. Michael will listen. Maybe it’s time Jeremy stops being so afraid. 

Jeremy sits down. 

“Remember junior year? In the heat of the shit with the SQUIP?” Michael nods, eyebrows knitting together in concern. They don’t really discuss the SQUIP, aside from late-night Mountain Dew Red binges that Michael catches him in monthly- if that. The SQUIP hasn’t made an appearance for awhile now. But Jeremy knows better than to think the SQUIP is gone for good. 

“Jeremy?” Michael snaps him out of his thoughts, bringing him back to the present. 

“So Junior year. During the Halloween party,”

“That fucking Halloween party,” Michael sighs, putting his head in his hands. 

“So remember when I found you in the bathroom?” Michael nods wordlessly, his head still in his hands. “So earlier that night, Chloe came up to me  _ super _ drunk,” Jeremy starts, and swallows hard. How does he verbalize it? 

Jeremy closes his eyes, and lets everything explode out of him. “And led me upstairs, and the SQUIP made me- the SQUIP didn’t let me move and made me touch her and she was too drunk to consent and it was only when I drank some beer - the SQUIP made me - that I was able to run away but it was already too late, you know? I didn’t  _ want  _ to touch her or kiss her but I didn’t have a choice and it fucked me up for awhile but I couldn’t go to anyone.” 

When Jeremy opens his eyes, Michael is staring at him, eyes open wide. Jeremy looks down again, because Michael’s gaze is too sympathetic, too intense. 

“I don’t know if I was like, raped, or just taken advantage of, or sexually assaulted, or if it doesn’t really count… and Chloe,  _ shit _ , she like, had sex with Jake after that, and I don’t know if that  _ counted _ , or if anything fucking  _ counted _ . That’s why I can’t… like… do shit with you sometimes.”

Michael inhales, and when he speaks his voice is thick with tears. “ _ You did nothing wrong, Jeremy _ .” Jeremy lets out a sob, the words cutting him right to his core. Tears slip out of his eyes, and he starts to shake. “You are not at fault. Neither is Chloe. It was the SQUIP. It was  _ only _ the SQUIP. Not you, not Chloe, and  _ you are not weak _ .”

“Thank you…” Jeremy whimpers. “Thank you.”

“You had something take advantage of you, that fucking Roomba in your head, and it wasn’t anyone’s fault but the robot’s. Okay?” Jeremy nods. “No, I need you to say it. I need you to  _ believe  _ it.”

“It wasn’t-” Jeremy gets out before breaking down into heavy sobs. “It w-wasn’t… m-my… f-f-fault.” 

Michael stands up, and walks around to Jeremy’s chair. “Can I…?” He asks, and Jeremy nods through his sobbing. He can let Michael touch him. Other people, sometimes, it feels like razors or fire, but with Michael, it’s like an ice pack on a burn. It heals him. 

And Michael holds him there, while Jeremy cries, and it’s like an ice pack. It’s like something healing his brain, making the swelling go down, letting him smile.

“You know we need to tell Chloe,” Michael whispers, and Jeremy nods.

“I don’t know how,” he mumbles, and lets out another batch of tears. 

“I’ll help you tell her,” Michael reassures, “I’ll be there, no matter what. I love you,” Michael says. “I love you no matter what.”

It makes Jeremy feel like he has a lifeboat, something that will keep him floating and protect him from the sea monsters in his head. It gives something concrete to this weird-ass relationship they have. Jeremy knows that it isn’t something Michael is just  _ saying _ , he knows it’s true like he knows that the sky is blue. It’s a fact of life. Even if the word ended, Michael would love him.

“I love you too, Michael,” Jeremy murmurs into Michael’s chest. “I will always love you.

 

It’s two days later when Chloe comes over to talk. She’s been released from the hospital with major bruising and pain meds, and she arrives at noon exactly. 

She looks a lot better, which sets Jeremy at ease quickly. There are bruises, but they’re fairly well-hidden by concealer, and her hair is curled and shiny. She greets Michael with a hug and Jeremy with a quiet wave. 

“You said you wanted to talk to me about something?” She asks, and Jeremy can see that behind her eyes she’s a bit afraid. Jeremy nods, and gestures towards the seat they’ve put out for her at the table. They all crowd sit down, and Michael and Chloe raise their eyebrows at Jeremy expectantly. 

How do you tell someone something like this? Chloe isn’t Michael. She’s harder to predict, easier to anger, she doesn’t know Jeremy as well. 

“What do you remember about our Halloween party junior year?” That’s easy enough to start with. That’s a question. 

“I don’t remember much. I remember kissing you- ha! - I remember sleeping with Jake, sort of, and then I left before the fire.”

So she did remember kissing him. 

“So, like, you kissed me and stuff. Like, you remember that, right?” 

“Well,  _ duh _ , yeah. I mean… sorta. I was pretty fuckin’ hammered at that point,” she laughs, like this whole thing is a joke. Jeremy and Michael exhange a worried glance. 

“So that was around the time of the SQUIP, right?” Jeremy says, getting more nervous and more sweaty by the second. 

“Yeah,” Chloe says, growing quiet at the mention of the SQUIP. She looks up, and seeing Jeremy’s questioning look at Michael, she laughs worriedly. “What’s up? Why are you…” Jeremy can see her brain working it out, see her face contort with horror until she flies up out of her seat and flings her hand over her mouth. 

“ _ Holy fuck! _ ” She whispers, and closes her eyes. 

“No, no, it’s not your fault, it’s-” Jeremy stands, too, trying to avoid a misunderstanding. 

“No, I should have realized!” Chloe closes her eyes, tears already spilling over.

“You  _ couldn’t have  _ realized, Chloe,” Michael stands as well, putting a hand on her shoulder. She jerks away, and he retracts his hand like he’s touched hot coals. There is a beat of silence, where Jeremy just watches tears spill down Chloe’s cheeks. 

“It’s not like I said ‘no’, Chlo,” Jeremy explains. “The SQUIP wouldn’t let me, like, even stand up,” Chloe gapes at him in horror. 

“Oh my God.” 

“And since you were drunk, I was fighting not to, because that would be rape, right? But then I didn’t want to do this thing I was doing? So it was this messed up situation, and it was no one’s fault.” This still makes Jeremy smile inwardly, this still gives him a sigh of relief every time he says it or thinks it. “It wasn’t my fault, and it  _ was not your fault _ . It was the SQUIP’s fault. Fucking little Roomba in my brain.”

“That’s my line,” Michael interjects, and Jeremy rolls his eyes at him. 

“Chloe nods, and wipes at her eyes. Her makeup wipes away almost completely now, and Jeremy can see that she has a black eye. 

“Thank you for telling me,” she whispers, and Jeremy nods. 

“That’s the reason why I had a panic attack. I just kind of had a breakdown. I’m really sorry for making this whole thing harder for you.” Jeremy apologizes. Chloe shakes her head, fresh tears falling. 

“I wish I would have known,” she purses her lips and cries. 

“Why did you come to me?” Jeremy asks, something that suddenly doesn’t make sense. “Why didn’t you call Brooke, or-”

“Brooke and I don’t talk anymore.” Chloe says curtly. 

“What do you mean?” Asks Jeremy, shocked. 

“I mean that Brooke and I just… had a falling out. She thought I partied too much. I thought I didn’t. Until, now I guess,” she mutters. 

“Oh,” is all Michael says, but it’s enough to set Chloe over the edge. She sobs violently, and starts mumbling incoherent half sentences. 

“Chloe,  _ Chloe _ !” Michael begs, but she’s inconsolable. 

This is how it is, Chloe just sobbing into the kitchen table, Jeremy standing there awkwardly, Michael asking her to breathe. 

It’s only until after the sobbing stops that Chloe says something they can understand. 

“I should get help.” Her voice is broken, weak, Michael is standing over her, what should Jeremy do? Why does Jeremy never know how to help people?

“What do you need help with?” Jeremy asks, and Chloe rakes her fingers through her hair. 

“My drinking, I drink too much,” she declares, and she has that look in her eye, that very ‘Chloe’ look that means she will not give up on whatever she is doing. 

“How much do you drink?” asks Michael, seemingly more to himself than to her. 

“I don’t know anymore. It started as a way to have fun, you know? People will like you if you’re fun and there’s nothing else to do when your parents are never fucking around, so that’s what you do for all of high school - fuck it - for all of  _ middle  _ school, and then it’s just a habit, it’s just who you are until you start waking up next to guys again and again and you have to go on the pill so you don’t get pregnant because you don’t know what you’ll do next and then you fail all your classes because you’re always too hungover to show up so you never get into any colleges and you just go around partying everywhere until your best friend hates you and everyone hates you and you’ve been raped and you’re bleeding and-” 

Chloe collapses in violent sobs, and Michael hooks an arm under her shoulder to keep her from falling. 

“Chlo,  _ Chlo,  _ breathe,” Jeremy repeats what Michael did before, asking Chloe to name things around her until her breathing evened out enough to stand. 

“I’m sorry,” Chloe mutters through tears. “I’m so stupid, I’ll go,” She attempts to get up and reach for her coat, but Michael stands. 

“You need to rest, you need food. When’s the last time you ate?” Chloe shrugs wordlessly, but is able to consume a bowl of strawberries pretty quickly. 

“I do think you should get help,” Jeremy whispers to her while she’s eating. She nods.

“I think what you should do right now is sleep,” Michael advises. 

“That’s your solution to everything,” Jeremy jokes. 

“It works, it provides clarity,” Michael points out. “There’s a couch that folds out, you wait here while I get that.”

“I’ll get the crocheted thing from your grandma, it’s in the closet, right?” Jeremy asks, standing up and running to the bedroom.

Soon, Chloe is curled up in bed, asleep as soon as her head hits the pillow. 

“Do you think she’s slept at all for the past… day?” Jeremy asks, and Michael shrugs. “I had no idea she was struggling so much.”

“I knew that she wasn’t in… the best state of mind, but if she and Brooke aren’t talking, then it must be really bad.”

“We should Google AA Meetings and stuff around here.”

“We can do that,” Michael warns, “but we can’t force her to go. Remember that. She has to want to be helped.” 

The two go back to the kitchen, and Michael restarts the dishes. 

“Hey,” says Jeremy, “do you think we should tell Brooke?” 

“I think Chloe should tell Brooke,” Michael responds. 

Jeremy nods, taking a long drink of iced tea. The day hadn’t gone perfectly, but it hadn’t been horrible. At least Chloe didn’t blame him. But Jeremy thinks she might still blame herself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you guys sooo much for all the love and support! You make me smile! I really appreciate all of the comments and kudos and such. Thank you!!! <3


	4. Snapshots

“Hi, I’m Chloe,” Chloe says, greeting the circle of now-familiar faces in front of her. 

“Hi, Chloe,” they echo in unison. She giggles, placing a hand over her mouth. 

“You guys sound like a hivemind! Okay, okay- I’ve been sober for six months now!” She pauses. “You may applaud!” The group cheers. 

“I’ve been sober for thirty-two years now, you know,” a middle-aged woman points out. 

“Well, Karen, I haven’t had that opportunity yet, I’m only twenty. Which brings me to the next exciting thing- it’s my birthday! Wooo!” She claps for herself along with the rest of the group. “Which would explain why I’m wearing a tiara right now… my plans are to go out with some friends tonight. But no drinking! The friends that pushed me to get help will be there, so… none of that!” She pauses, beaming at the group. “It’ll be Michael, Jeremy, Rich, this girl named Chloe from New York and me. We’re going to meet at Applebee’s at seven, so that’ll be fun. 

“This whole thing has helped me so much. Do you know where I was six months ago? I was pretty much homeless, I had just been… well I had just been raped. That’s where I was. And even though that was in no way my fault, at  _ all _ , it opened my eyes. And that’s why I showed up. Here, I mean. And I’ve made some… amazing friends. Thank you. Thank you all, for supporting me, and listening to my problems. Without you, I wouldn’t be… well, I wouldn’t be sober on a Friday night, for one. I wouldn’t have been able to bring my rapist to court, or apply for colleges like I’m doing. You really played a huge part in saving me.” Chloe’s crying now, huge crocodile tears falling down her face, but she’s smiling. “I can’t say this enough. Thank you.” 

 

\----------

 

“Chloe needs to either put her hair shit away, or use less hair shit,” Michael decides, trying - and failing - once again to comb through the heap of hair gel and mousse. “I can’t find my fucking hairbrush,  _ again _ ,” he whines, shaking out a box full of various brushes and combs, all pink or purple.

“Then buy one that’s not  _ lavender _ ,” Jeremy suggests from the kitchen.

“I’ve told you, it makes my hair really shiny and Target only sells it in purple!” 

“Well, we’re going to be late, so fix your hair quickly or not at all,” Jeremy warns. A few seconds later, Michael storms out of the bathroom, hair wild and curly on his head. He had insisted on wearing a full-blown tuxedo, something Jeremy had pointed out wasn’t commonplace at Applebee’s, but was something that Michael seemed excited for. He had spent nearly an hour and a half trying to tie his tie, and eventually settled for a clip-on found buried in the back of their closet. 

“I’m just giving up with the hair, I don’t think Chloe will mind that much,” Michael sighs, pulling on trainers. 

“I think you look adorable with messy hair,” Jeremy says, grinning down at Michael. “Then again, I always think you’re adorable.” 

Michael stands up and pulls Jeremy in for a quick kiss, running a hand through Jeremy’s hair. “Love ya, Jer.” He mutters, and Jeremy smiles warmly. 

“Let’s get going before I fall more in love with you, we’re running late.” 

“We’re that annoying couple that never shuts up about each other, aren’t we?” Michael asks, and Jeremy nods in response. Laughing, they clamber into the Uber waiting outside. 

 

\----------

 

Brooke walks into the Applebee’s, hair limp and wet from the rain outside. She shivers in her sweatshirt, wishing for a lipstick or lipgloss or even a fucking  _ Chapstick _ . All she wants to do is fall asleep, but she should get something to eat. Her flight to Dallas got cancelled, and she has until 8 am to eat, sleep, and somehow survive overnight in a New Jersey airport. Luckily, there’s an Applebee’s a block away from the airport, and  Brooke needed to get the fuck out of there. 

But  _ God _ , Brooke doesn’t want to be here in New Jersey, knowing that Chloe is somewhere in this city. She’s already spent today trying desperately  _ not _ to think of Chloe, but’s been failing miserably. 

It started this morning, when both her calender and her Facebook post notification informed her that ‘Today is Chloe Valentine’s Birthday!’ and Brooke’s finger hovered over Chloe’s number on her cell phone for a good five minutes, before shutting it off and collapsing back on her bed in tears. 

Then her flight to Dallas gets cancelled, stranding her in New Jersey, in the same town where Chloe lives now, although Brooke can’t be sure she’s even here. She hasn’t spoken to Chloe in months, she switched schools, she muted her on Facebook, blocked her on Instagram, Twitter, Snapchat, blocked her number, everything. Nothing worked. She couldn’t get Chloe out of her head, she couldn’t stop imagining the worst happening. Having happened. 

Chloe had been crashing at rock bottom when Brooke left. She was drunk, she was high, she was refusing to acknowledge any of it, and Brooke felt like she was breaking apart every time she saw her. After a two am fight laced with tears, alcohol, a sloppy, angry, desperate, beautiful kiss, and Brooke exploding out of the door of their apartment clutching her school backpack, wiping the taste of Chloe out of her mouth and running away. 

Now, Brooke is stranded in a New Jersey Applebee’s, clutching her backpack (the same backpack she took from Chloe’s place), not wearing any makeup, and all she wants is a hamburger, some fries, and a shot of tequila. 

That’s when she rounds the corner and sees them. 

It’s everyone from high school,  _ seriously _ , Jeremy and Michael and Rich and Jake and Christine and  _ Chloe _ . Jesus Christ, there’s  _ Chloe Valentine _ sitting at the head of the table, in a birthday sash and tiara, laughing and looking so goddamn beautiful Brooke nearly cries. 

She’s  _ there _ , and she’s not crying or drunk or dead, she looks radiant and happy. And Brooke stands there, dumbly, until suddenly Chloe makes eye contact with her, and breaks into a smile wider than any smile Brooke’s seen her give since before middle school. 

“Brookie?” Chloe asks, in a voice so shaky and quiet it’s barely there. 

“Chlo… you’re here.” 

“You came!” Chloe leaps from her chair, wrapping Brooke up in a suffocating hug. Brooke can’t help but raise her hands to hug back, even though all the doubts are rushing back. Suddenly she pulls back, searching Chloe’s face for a trace of drunkenness, hurt, sickness, the things her brain searches for on autopilot. But she can’t see anything there. 

“Happy Birthday,” Brooke whispers, and Chloe can sense her doubts, like she can read Brooke’s mind. 

“I’m six months sober today, Brookie.” Chloe says, and Brooke feels the earth begin to sway. 

“What?” Brooke gets out. “Are you serious?”

“Yeah!” Chloe giggles, and everything about her sparkles. 

“I’m so proud of you,” Brooke gushes, and Chloe pulls her into a hug. “I’m so sorry for not being there for you,” 

Chloe thinks back to the hundreds of unread texts, and feels a brief rage. But then she thinks back to the nights where she would throw things, where she would come home bruised and watch Brooke cry on the couch when Chloe wouldn’t let her call the police. 

They had both done everything wrong, so they both couldn’t carry blame. 

The waitress brought over another chair for Brooke. 

 

\----------

 

Maybe things won’t be perfect. 

Jeremy still shakes at night, he still rummages through the mini fridge at four in the morning with tears streaming down his face, searching for Mountain Dew Code Red. 

Chloe still clenches her fist when she walks by the beer aisle, a small voice in her head egging her on.

And there will be one weekend where Brooke is out of town and she finds herself gulping down the burning liquid until she passes out on her couch, sobbing into throw pillows. 

Rich’s scars will sting, Jake will fail to help, standing outside of the bathroom listening to him curse as the shower water makes his arms burn, Christine will call Jeremy in a fit of tears because she was turned down for a role she worked months for. 

But Rich’s skin will grow stronger and Christine will start screaming wildly in a Panera Bread over the phone to Michael to tell him that she’s got a role on Broadway. 

Brooke will come home and help Chloe piece herself back together, holding her tight until she remembers why the world looks better sober, because Brooke is better in focus, and she’ll pull her in and kiss her softly. 

Michael will kiss Jeremy’s temples until the pain eases up a little, they’ll curl up in bed together and Jeremy will fall asleep breathing steadily. 

Maybe things won’t be perfect. Then again, they never are. But sometimes they get close.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been forever, but I have returned for a final chapter that took ages to write and made me pull put my hair out of frustration. Also, bonus points if you can find my Falsettos reference. 
> 
> I hope you guys liked this fic! It got a lil' bit heavy on the Brooke/Chloe dynamic here, but I think it worked. It's been fun writing this, so I hope it's been fun reading! <3 ya!

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first BMC fic! I love the musical, and this scene always made me think about all the shit Jeremy's got to be feeling. Feel free to comment (lol I'm thirsty for the comments) and thanks for reading!


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